


Your Light Is A Seed, And Darkness The Dirt

by katerina_sleeps



Series: We're Never Done With Killing Time [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3972868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katerina_sleeps/pseuds/katerina_sleeps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Declan told me. A few Sundays ago."<br/>"You didn't know?"<br/>"I was three. What did I know?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Light Is A Seed, And Darkness The Dirt

The sermon was boring. 

Declan tried to stop his mind from wandering but it was difficult when he was pretty sure he’d heard the exact same sermon at least twice in the past few months. While the priest droned on about forgiveness, Matthew tried and failed to stifle a yawn beside him. On Matthew’s other side Declan could see Ronan rolling his head back and forth out of the corner of his eye, trying to work a crick out of his neck. Even Declan was restless, crossing and uncrossing his arms. The morning was already sticky hot, summer making the most of it’s final days. Declan itched to loosen his tie. 

“Peter struggled with forgiveness,” the priest said. “He turned to Jesus and asked, ‘How many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?’ And Jesus never advocates for the easy road. He never suggests to wallow in your anger and resentment and frustration, as tempting as it may be. How many times? Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.’” The priest smiled. “If you’re looking for an excuse to take the low road, Jesus is not the one to turn to.” The congregation gave him an obligatory chuckle, Declan included, although he was less than amused. He believed in God, but he doubted his own ability to forgive Ronan unconditionally. 

And honestly, could God really blame him for that? 

Standing up for communion was a relief. A couple of hymns later and they were finally outside, squinting in the bright sunlight. Ronan’s jacket and tie were already off, several of his shirt’s buttons undone by the time Declan reached for his own tie. 

“Should we go get some lunch?” he asked his brothers. “My treat.” 

Matthew smiled but shook his head. “Can’t. I’m meeting Roger and Vincent for a chem project. Can you drop me off at Aglionby?”

“Sure.” Declan caught Ronan’s arm as he started walking away. Ever the forgiving big brother, he asked “What about you, Ronan?” 

Ronan stared at him. “What?”

“Come with me to drop Matthew off and we’ll get something to eat after. I don’t see your car here anyway.” Ronan glared but Declan was too used to this tactic to look away first. Ronan finally yanked his arm out of Declan’s grip and shrugged.

“Whatever,” he muttered. He ruffled Matthew’s hair as the two of them made their way to Declan’s Volvo, shoving each other and laughing. Declan followed. 

 

As soon as Matthew stepped out of the back seat and slammed the door the tension in the car skyrocketed. Declan, as usual, did his best to pretend he didn’t notice - he couldn’t say what he needed to say if he let it get to him - but the drive had cleared his head of the grogginess he’d felt in church and now that he was alone with Ronan it was impossible not to think about everything he was trying to push aside. 

Ronan at the Barns, new will in hand. Ronan carrying their mother out of her home. His mother, waking up without him. 

Did she ask where he was when she opened her eyes? Did she chastise Ronan for leaving him behind? Did she even notice he wasn’t there? 

He’d gone to see her once, with Matthew. It was like a dream. Sometimes he thought he _had ___dreamed it, until Matthew would ask him if he wants to go back and see her again, as if nothing could be simpler. But he couldn't bring himself to go back. He relived the memory instead, over and over until it was tattooed into his mind. Mom smiling at him with open arms, standing in that old, old forest like she belonged there. Her arms around him, her voice in his ear telling him everything would be alright. At the time the last thing he’d been concerned with was interrogating her about which of her sons she loved more.

Declan and Ronan watched through the windshield as Matthew greeted his friends by the Aglionby gates with fist bumps and complicated handshakes. Declan wondered if he’d ever been as carefree as his youngest brother. He didn't think so.

Declan pulled the car around and headed towards the road.

“You can just drop me off at Monmouth,” Ronan said. “I’m not hungry.”

“Have you eaten today?” Declan said. Ronan didn't say anything but Declan could almost hear him scowling. “It’s just lunch. It won’t take long.”

They didn't speak for a few minutes before Declan forced himself to try again.

“How have you been?” he said.

Ronan snorted. “You mean in the four and a half days since you moved to DC? Terrible. The world’s turned upside down. I crashed Dad’s car and contracted several STDs. Mostly from trading sexual favors to support my new heroin addiction.”

Declan rolled his eyes. “It’s just a question Ronan.”

“I’m fucking fine. I’d be even better if you moving away involved you actually, you know, _moving away ___. What the fuck did you think would happen without you watching over my every move?”

“ _Nothing ___, Ronan, for god’s sake. It’s just what people say. Can you possibly not try to start a fight with me for once in your life? I’m trying here.”

Ronan huffed but he didn't say anything else. 

“How are your friends doing? Is Gansey any closer to finding that king he’s after?”

“No.”

“What about Noah? What’s he been up to?”

“He’s dead, so. Not much.”

Declan took a deep breath and prayed for patience. 

“And Adam? Is he still working all those jobs?”

“Nope. He tripped over a big pile of cash and moved to Cancun. Didn't I tell you?”

Declan ignored this. “You’re not still paying his rent are you?”

He glanced over when Ronan didn't answer. His jaw and fists were clenched. His tone was clipped when he answered. 

“I was never paying his rent. It was _one ___payment that prevented him from starving to death on the street, which he would have done just to keep going to Aglionby after their bullshit tuition hike.”

“And it was very generous of you, but you can’t spend that kind of money without talking to me first. I’m still your guardian and-”

“You should be fucking grateful I’m friends with him. All he does is work and study. He’ll probably be valedictorian. He doesn't even drink. You should be praying he rubs off on me, he’s boring as hell. I’m surprised you’re not in love with him.” 

Declan didn't respond until they reached a red light. He looked at Ronan, who stared straight ahead. “I am grateful. For all of your friends.” Ronan stayed quiet and refused to turn his head. A horn beeped behind them and Declan sighed and started driving again.

“Just don’t make anymore big payments like that without letting me know first.”

They rode in silence until Declan pulled into a small cafe their mom used to take them to after church.

They sat at a small table in the corner. Declan looked at Ronan while Ronan looked out the window. He murmured a thank you when the waiter brought their coffee and croissants over. Ronan finally tore his eyes away from the empty street to pick up his mug. 

“This an Irish coffee?” he asked. Declan frowned. Ronan sighed and shook his head. “Why do you hate your heritage, man.” He took a sip and flinched when he burned his tongue. 

Declan tried not to smirk. 

“So what are we doing here? Brotherly bonding over baked goods isn't really your style,” Ronan said after a few minutes of picking at their food.

Declan set his butter knife down. “I want to talk to you about Matthew.”

He finally had Ronan’s attention. “What about him?”

“I need to know he’ll be safe while I’m away.”

“‘Course he will be. I’ll look out for him.”

“You might be the problem.”

Ronan stilled at that, and Declan immediately regretted his choice of words. He could almost hear Ronan’s teeth grinding. He leaned forward before Ronan could say anything. “It’s not in the way you think, okay? I’m trying to help both of you.”

“How?” Ronan said, his voice sharp. “By blaming me for every bad thing that’s ever happened to Matthew? Like I can control so much of the fucking world that it’s automatically my fault every time he gets a paper cut? Why don’t you just put him in a giant bubble and be done with it? It’ll be a lot easier than blaming me.”

“I’m not blaming you for anything. I’m _not ___,” Declan said when Ronan rolled his eyes. “This is about you taking care of yourself so that he doesn't get hurt.”

Ronan was staring out the window again and shaking his head. “I didn't want Kavinsky to take him. How was I supposed to know he would anyway? It wasn't my fault.”

Declan fought the urge to lecture Ronan about Kavinsky. The last thing Ronan would be willing to hear from him was an I told you so. Instead, Declan grabbed Ronan’s wrist and turned his arm over, tapping the inside of his brother’s forearm with the fingers of his other hand. “ _This ___is what I’m talking about.” The long sleeves of Ronan’s button up hid the scars, but he yanked his hand away as if Declan had taken a knife to them, making the dishes rattle against the table. He looked furious, but Declan could see the fear in his eyes. “If something happens to you, something happens to him.”

“Fuck you.”

You need to be more careful-”

“ _Fuck. You. ___” Ronan shoved his chair back and stood up. Declan took a deep breath and laid all his cards on the table.

“Dad wasn't careful and look what happened to Mom.”

Ronan was halfway to the door but Declan didn't have to turn around to know he’d stopped. A minute later he was walking slowly back to the table. 

“What are you talking about,” he said. There was the smallest hint of a tremor in his voice. Declan felt a rush of tenderness towards his brother. It took him by surprise. 

How does someone tell his little brother that he made up his second brother in his head? 

“Mom...she was never pregnant with Matthew.” He didn't know how to continue. He should have planned this out. He should have done this a long time ago. He didn't want Ronan to be hurt. Where was his anger when he needed it? “I don’t know if you remember my fifth birthday. Dad set up a whole petting zoo sort of thing out back, in the field with that huge oak tree. Lambs and baby goats and all kinds of animals. Mom made a huge banana cake, seriously massive, we had leftovers for a week. That’s why neither of us could stand bananas for years, remember?” Ronan sat back down in his chair, staring at him. Declan took a deep breath and kept going. “Dad kept us up late that night reading a ton of stories over and over again. Mom had to come in and make him stop so we could go to sleep. The next morning I woke up before you. I went to your bed to wake you up for breakfast and...he was in there with you. Both of you were asleep. You were holding him like a teddy bear. We went to bed that night just the two of us and in the morning our brother was there, two years old and already talking.”

Ronan didn't say anything. He didn't move. Declan couldn't even tell if he was breathing. He waited for Ronan’s reaction, pulled off a piece of his croissant and brought it up to his mouth, set it down without taking a bite.

He’d never said any of this this out loud before. 

“Ronan,” he said. “I know you can do what Dad could do. It took me a while to understand. I tried to ask Dad how it happened and he told me never to say anything. He didn't explain, he just made me promise. It wasn't until he died and Mom became...the way she was.” Declan stopped and rubbed a hand over his face. “That’s when I knew it came from him. And that if something ever happened to you, Matthew would end up like her.”

Ronan’s hands were clenched into fists on the table. His eyes were downcast. Declan could see the tears running down his cheeks. He reached halfway across the table, hesitated, then covered one of Ronan’s hands with his own.

Ronan didn't pull away. 

“When Gansey called me that night,” he said, “I panicked. I woke Matthew up and drove us to the hospital, probably even more recklessly than you. You were still in surgery when Gansey called and all I could think the whole ride over there was that you could be dead.” He squeezed Ronan’s hand. “It wasn't until we got to the hospital and Matthew asked me if I was okay that I realized, if you were dead he wouldn't be awake.”

Ronan sniffed and wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand. His other hand relaxed under Declan’s. He took a deep, shaky breath and met Declan’s eyes. His own were red rimmed and shiny, but he wasn't crying anymore. 

“I won’t let him get hurt,” he said. “I promise.”

Declan wanted to say something. He wanted to make Ronan swear on something, make him stop drinking, make him call every day.

He nodded instead. “Okay.”

 

“Matthew took me to see Mom.”

They were driving back to Monmouth. Ronan had a box of croissants on his lap. He glanced over at him but Declan kept his eyes on the road. “Yeah, he told me.” He chewed on the leather straps on his wrists for a moment. “Have you gone back?”

“No.” For the first time he felt guilty, like he was punishing his mom and his brothers for sins they didn’t even know about. Declan was starting to wonder if they were the ones in the wrong. “I will though. I want to. It’s just...hard.” He didn’t know what else to say. 

Declan pulled into the lot in front of the warehouse and eased the car to a stop. Ronan didn’t get out right away. 

“Ronan?”

“I didn't try to kill myself,” he said. Declan raised his eyebrows. “I didn't. It was a dream. I...there are these...creatures. They show up when I have a nightmare. This was just...I didn't wake up in time.”

No wonder Ronan had fought so hard against seeing a therapist. How could he possibly have talked about this?

“Just because you didn't do it yourself that doesn't mean-” Declan stopped and ran his fingers through his hair. “Why would you dream something like that if part of you didn't want to?”

Ronan shrugged and looked down at his hands. “I don’t want to anymore.”

Declan wasn't sure what to say. “That’s good. That’s really good.”

Ronan nodded and opened his door.

“You know it’s not just Matthew I’m worried about right? I don’t want to lose you either.”

They looked at each other through Ronan’s open door. Declan held his breath. Ronan didn't quite smile, but something seemed to relax in his face. His sharp edges were less lethal, somehow.

“See you around,” he said. The door slammed. Declan watched his brother until the door to Monmouth closed behind him. He put the Volvo in gear and pulled back onto the road. He had to say goodbye to Matthew before the long drive back to school.

Declan passed St. Agnes on his way to Aglionby. "See you next week," he said to the empty car. He pressed down on the gas pedal and sped up to see his brother.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song Uneven Odds by Sleeping At Last (it's literally such a Lynch brothers song I can't even believe it)
> 
> Look at me finally continuing my series! So the idea of this series is to shed some light on moments we don't get to see in canon. Basically I want to write missing/deleted scenes, the moments that happen between the moments in canon. Originally I planned on this being a mostly pynch project but there's so much going on for every character that I decided to just do whatever I felt like doing, and I love Declan and Ronan's relationship so this happened. 
> 
> I have ideas for a few chapters but I'm happy to hear suggestions if you have some!


End file.
